Learning to Fall
by Tamara Reuveni
Summary: A series of B&B one-shots. Only mild sexual content because even fictional people deserve their privacy. Just use your imagination.
1. Learning to Fall

Learning to Fall

By: Tamara A. Ryder

" _I was alone in the dark,_

 _Never let down my guard,_

 _Closed the curtain on my heart,_

 _So the world could not see_

 _All the demons in me._

 _Told myself I was free._

 _And you showed me how wrong I could be."_

Her body shook with sobs and her tears soaked his t-shirt. He stroked her back and murmured comforting nonsense sounds in to her hair. It was hard to believe that the fragile, brokenhearted creature in his arms had any connection to the steely scientist he'd met all those years ago. He'd like to believe that with endless patience and perseverance he had worn away her armor, but he knew the truth. It had always been as fragile as an egg shell. Most people didn't notice the cracks because they weren't really looking.

Gradually her shoulders relaxed and her breathing steadied. For a while she just lay there, her head pillowed on his chest. He thought she had fallen asleep when she suddenly sat up and looked at him. "Are you still angry?" she asked.

He frowned. "About Vincent? Yeah, of course I am."

But she was shaking her head. "Not about Vincent. About . . ." She looked away and plucked at a crease in the sheet. "About me and Hannah and . . . and nobody wanting to marry you."

He stared at her, slowly realizing what she was asking. Finally he said, "Oh." He had to think about it for a moment. This had been the last thing on his mind when he'd taken her in his arms, but now that he analyzed his jumbled feelings, he found that the anger was gone and had been for a while, completely eclipsed by his growing love for this fragile, awkward, fiercely caring woman. "No," he said. "No, that all seems kind of silly now."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. "I find," she said quietly, "that today's events have made me see the value of emotional vulnerability over imperviousness more clearly than ever although logically they should have had the opposite effect. I feel . . ." She took a long breath. "I feel strong enough to take a chance."

He couldn't speak. He had temporarily forgotten how to construct a coherent sentence. She misinterpreted his hesitation. "Of course, if you feel this is an inappropriate time," she began, but she never finished the sentence because her lips were suddenly very busy.

" _When you looked in my eyes,_

 _Past the fear and false pride,_

 _You saw goodness inside._

 _I can't believe how I feel_

 _Knowing that love is real,_

 _And I'm ready to heal."_

He was woken at three a.m. by the buzzing of his phone. He answered it quickly so it wouldn't wake her. "Booth," he whispered.

" _Hey. It's Cam. Why are you whispering? Are you all right?_ "

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just that Bones stayed at my place last night and she's still asleep."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the call. Then, " _Did you say Dr. Brennan spent the night with you?_ "

"On the couch, Camille." Well, she'd started out on the couch, so it was sort of true. "I didn't think it was safe for her to be alone in her apartment. Why are you calling at this hour anyway?"

Because he knew that he _had_ lied and he felt guilty about it, the question came out sharper than he intended. He could hear her own tone bristle defensively. " _Uh, to check up on you? In case you've forgotten, there's an insane vigilante sniper trying to kill you._ "

He _had_ forgotten. For a few hours the whole world had disappeared. It was just him and the woman he loved, and everything was perfect. But he couldn't say that.

" _You know what? Forget it,_ " she said when he was silent too long. " _I'll talk to you after you've had your coffee. Goodbye, Seeley._ "

"No, wait, Cam. I'm sorry," he blurted. This was a really bad time to part with angry words. "Thanks," he said instead. "For worrying. I appreciate it."

" _That's what friends are for,_ " she said, mollified. " _I'll see you later._ "

"Yeah. Later."

As he rolled over to put the phone back on the nightstand, a hand softly touched his back. He turned to look in to those piercing blue eyes. "Why did you lie?" she asked. Not accusingly. Just curiously.

"I'm not ashamed or anything," he said quickly. "I just . . . I don't think it's wise to flaunt something like this right now. It could be dangerous."

"You think if Broadsky found out we were lovers, he would try to use me against you."

"Yeah. I mean he blames me for the death of the woman _he_ loved. But once Broadsky's taken care of, we can tell the world."

"I don't think it's necessary to tell the whole world. The information is only of consequence to our friends and family. Why are you laughing?"

"Because I love you," he chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose. "I love everything about you, even your maddening literal mindedness." He pulled her closer and breathed in her scent. "I couldn't bear losing you," he whispered. "I'd die."

"I'm going to tell Angela, though," she said after a moment. "It's highly unlikely that Broadsky could find out from her so it should be perfectly safe."

"And if you don't tell her, she'll pick it up on her radar anyway, and then she'll be mad at you for not telling her."

"Angela doesn't have radar. She has an instinctual cognizance of subliminal cues embedded in body language and speech patterns. Radar would actually be useless for analyzing interpersonal –"

But once again she suddenly had better things to do with her mouth than talk. They didn't sleep any more that morning.

" _Now I'm standing on a mountain of rubble_

 _That once was a wall._

 _Took years to build around me,_

 _And you came along and you tore it down_

 _Like it was nothing at all._

 _Now it's a little scary._

 _Learning to fall."_

* * *

A/N - The song "Learning to Fall" is by Martina McBride, but it might as well have been written just for our favorite crime fighting couple.


	2. That's My Girl

_A/N - This one is an addition to The Repo Man in the Septic Tank. Please leave a review if you like it. Special thanks to Benny, my beta, editor, beloved husband, and biggest fan._

* * *

That's My Girl

He didn't plan it. He fully intended to let her deal with it in her own way. But when he saw the guy, all his alarms went off. The scruffy beard, the earring, the confident demeanor. This wasn't someone who was used to hearing the word no. Bones, bless her logical heart, might think she had made things clear to him, but in Booth's experience logic always fought a losing battle against lust. Only one thing could punch through the haze of infatuation, and that was the even more ancient survival instinct.

He hesitated and glanced toward Bones's office. Through the glass wall he could see her hunched over her desk, probably checking and rechecking her notes on the case they'd just closed, making absolutely certain the right person was going to prison. She wouldn't like what he was about to do. She'd call it possessive and chauvinistic, or some other big word. But she didn't really understand how beautiful and desirable she was; and she so often stayed here long after everyone else had gone, so absorbed in her work that time seemed to stop. It would be horrifyingly easy for someone to sneak up on her. No, Booth couldn't rest easy until this cocky new squintern had been put in his place. He'd gladly risk her annoyance to keep her safe.

Veering off course, he stopped at the door of the bone room. The young Latino man in the gray lab coat was wiping down the now empty table with disinfectant. "Hi," Booth said conversationally. He took a little perverse pleasure in the other man's small jump of surprise. He'd deliberately fallen in to his "sniper step" as he approached the room.

"Hello," the man said uncertainly. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Seeley Booth, the resident FBI agent. I just thought I'd introduce myself since it looks like you'll be sticking around for a while."

The man's confusion cleared. "Ah. Agent Booth. Of course." He peeled off a glove and held out his hand. "Doctor Rodolfo Fuentes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Booth squeezed the proffered hand a tad harder than necessary and was rewarded with a small wince. "Bones must think pretty highly of you," he said, still in a light, conversational tone. "She only takes the best."

"Bones?" Fuentes said, and then he chuckled. "You mean Dr. Brennan? What a clever nickname. I'm not really sure what she thinks of me though. The Jeffersonian and the State Department jointly forced me upon her in a manner of speaking."

"Oh, no one forces Bones to do anything. Believe me, if you're still here, it's because you've earned her respect and trust. Not an easy thing to do. I hope you're smart enough not to abuse the privilege."

Fuentes noted the abrupt, slightly menacing shift in Booth's demeanor and frowned. "What do you mean? Of course I would never –"

"You asked her to sleep with you."

It was a quiet statement of fact, but Fuentes could sense the danger in every line of Booth's stance. "Yes," he said warily. "How did you –"

"Actually, the way she told it, you stated that you expected her to sleep with you." Booth put his hands in his pockets, deliberately pushing open his jacket to reveal the gun holstered at his hip.

Fuentes's eyes flicked toward it, then back to Booth's stony expression. "Okay," he said, holding up a hand. "It's not like it sounds. I sensed a great deal of tension between us. I misinterpreted the signals. It was a simple misunderstanding. I don't understand why this is any business of yours."

Booth's eyebrows shot up. "You don't understand why some charming bastard trying to seduce my wife would concern me?"

Fuentes went pale. He hadn't know, Booth realized. No one had told him. Fuentes was babbling something to the same effect. "Shut up," Booth said, and Fuentes's flood of justifications ceased.

Booth laid a hand lightly on the man's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I don't know if you're actually deterred by the fact that she's married," he said. "You don't seem like the monogamous kind. You might be deterred by the fact that she's married to a man who knows at least a hundred painful ways to kill you, but then again maybe not. You don't seem to mind danger either. There is one thing that should definitely concern you though, and that is the fact that she's a woman who's had a very difficult life and doesn't trust easily. But she trusted you enough to continue working with you even after you made inappropriate advances. I'm not going to second guess her judgement. I'm just going to warn you. If you betray her trust, if you hurt her in any way, you'll answer not just to me but to this entire team. We're her family, and we look out for her. Is that clear?"

Fuentes nodded slowly. "Absolutely clear."

"Good." Booth patted his shoulder, though perhaps a bit too heavily for true reassurance. "Then I think we're going to get along just fine."

He left Fuentes standing there, bewildered, and continued to Bones's office. She looked up as he entered, and smiled that special smile she reserved just for him. "Ready to go?" he asked with an answering grin.

"Yes." She closed her laptop and began putting papers in to her bag. When she stood up and headed for the door, he caught her hand and pulled her back. "What –" she started to ask, but he silenced her with a kiss. Not a quick peck, but a deep, lingering kiss that left them both short of breath.

"What was that for?" she asked when he finally released her mouth and rested his forehead against hers.

"Don't need a reason," he said, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. "You married me, remember? Unlimited kisses were part of the deal."

"Is that right?" she murmured, leaning in to kiss him again.


	3. Music Builds a Bridge

_A/N - Hi, everybody. First of all thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and followings. I am feeling the love._

 _This piece is based on "The Girl in the Sand". That's season 2 for those of you who don't have a ridiculously good memory for trivial details. (And yet I still can't remember where I left my damn phone even though I put it down not even two minutes ago. Go figure.)_

 _Here's a funny thing. I'm usually really good at coming up with titles for my stories. Better than I am at actually writing the story. But not this time. This story refuses to tell me what it wants to be called. Who was it who said that writer's block is when your imaginary friends aren't speaking to you? So my husband suggested I hold a little contest. Read the story, and if a title springs to mind, leave me a review or send me a PM. The inventor of the winning title will get to give me a Bones prompt which will become the next chapter of this little one-shot series._ _You'll need to have an account on this site to participate because I can't reply to guest reviews. There will be a few ground rules for the kinds of prompts I will accept, but we'll get to that once we have a winner. I will make a decision in two weeks or when I have more than twenty suggestions._

 _Now read on._

* * *

She screamed herself awake, but the nightmare didn't end. She was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, and outside the window were the lights of a strange city. It was all too much like the images that had jarred her from sleep. Lost, abandoned, moving from one place to another, nowhere to call home. A sob of terror rose in her throat before she could choke it back. She needed to be back in her own apartment, surrounded by her own possessions, tangible evidence of the life she had built for herself – a stable, secure life.

Movement in the bed next to her almost made her scream again in fright. Then a familiar, calloused hand touched her shoulder, and a familiar voice said, "It's all right. It's just me. What's wrong?"

Booth. Her partner, her friend, her anchor. She practically attacked him, throwing her arms around his neck. He let out his breath in a soft whoosh as her head collided with his chest, but he accepted her in to his arms without hesitations. His stubbly cheek tickled her forehead, and he stroked her tangled hair and whispered in her ear, "It's okay. I got you. You're okay."

She breathed in his scent, finally remembering where she was. They'd come to Las Vegas to identify a body, but a simple identification had quickly turned in to a multiple homicide investigation and then a dangerous undercover mission in to the shadowy world of ultimate fighting. That was why he was in bed with her. Posing as Tony and Roxy, an engaged couple looking for an adventure, they'd gotten a hotel room together and then spent the evening awkwardly trying to get comfortable without crossing the invisible line down the middle of the bed, a stark contrast to the way they'd been acting in public today. But now both the awkwardness and the false romance was gone. He held her unconditionally, as a friend, a protector, a shelter from the storm.

Slowly she relaxed, her terror fading. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though she didn't let go of him yet.

"It's okay," he said, his hand making slow circles between her shoulders. "You were scared. I understand."

"But it was just a dream. I wasn't in any real danger."

"Doesn't matter. I will happily protect you from nightmares as well as real live monsters. I have enough night terrors of my own to know how real they can feel."

They stayed like that for another minute. Then she gently disentangled from his arms and went in to the bathroom. She gulped water straight from the faucet and splashed some on her face. When she came back out, he was still sitting up on the bed, watching her. "I'm okay now, Booth," she told him. "You can go back to sleep."

For a moment, she thought he was going to push her to talk about it the way Peter always had. That was the main reason she hadn't had a serious relationship since she and Peter broke up two years ago. Men could never just let her deal with her problems in her own way. They always wanted to help her, to fix her. It was suffocating. Was Booth going to be like that now? Was he going to start treating her like a fragile child? She tensed, hoping desperately that her moment of vulnerability hadn't ruined their partnership for good.

But Booth just nodded and laid back down on his side of the bed. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she too crawled back under the blankets. But when she closed her eyes, the images were still there. Not quite as vivid, but still too close for comfort. She considered giving up on sleep and spending the rest of the night writing. She often did her best chapters on nights like this, but tomorrow she and Booth were going in to a dangerous situation, and she needed to be alert. "Booth?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What do you do when you have nightmares? I mean, how do you fall asleep again?"

"Well, sometimes I listen to quiet music."

She was up out of bed in an instant and digging through her suitcase until she found her iPod. Crawling back in to bed for a second time, she offered Booth one of the earbuds. He accepted with a smile, and she turned on a soft, bluesy playlist.

They lay in the dark and listened to love songs and lullabies, occasionally whispering comments about their favorite lyrics, or chuckling at an unexpected overlap in their tastes.

At some point their hands crept over that invisible line and their fingers intertwined. At some point they slept, their heads laying close together, and the music wove through their dreams, creating a fortress of peace and safety that no nightmare could breach.

* * *

 _Hope you liked it. Even if you don't have any title suggestions, leave a review. It makes my day._


	4. And the Winner Is

**Author's Notification:**

 _This is to announce that the Chapter Three Title Contest is officially closed. Thank you to everyone who submitted ideas. There were a lot of beautiful ones, and it was really hard to pick. But of course a story can only have one title. And the winner is . . ._

 ** _JAG'ed Bones in the Casckett_** _with the title "_ _ **Music Builds a Bridge**_ _"._

 _As soon as I have JAG'ed's prompt, I'll be getting to work on the next chapter of this one-shot series. Summer has well and truly started here in Israel. You don't know the meaning of "blistering hot" until you have lived in a desert, and I will accept any excuse to hole up in my air conditioned apartment with a bowl of ice cream and a blank piece of paper, so this shouldn't take long at all._

 _Thank you so much to all my readers and reviewers. I'm having so much fun exploring the heads and hearts of our favorite crime fighting couple, and I'm glad to have your company on this wild ride._

 ** _Tamara A. Ryder_**


	5. The Definition of Family

_A/N - A huge apology to everyone for taking so long with this, especially when I said it would be quick. Life had other ideas._

 _So, JAG'ed Bones in the Casckett asked for it, and here it is. The story of how Booth and Brennan told Parker he was going to be a big brother. I hope it was worth the wait._

 _This story is dedicated to my family - by blood, marriage, and choice - and especially to my father who let me put his words in Booth's mouth without charging royalties._

 _A belated Happy Independence Day to all my American readers. Freedom is something to celebrate every day of the year._

* * *

The Definition of Family

By: Tamara A. Ryder

He looked at the clock yet again. Only two minutes had passed. Still fifteen minutes to go. He forced his attention back to the case file he was reviewing, but he wasn't absorbing any of it. Giving up at last, he flopped back in his chair and took his lucky dice from his pocket. The familiar rolling motion and clicking sound calmed him a little but not much. The problem was he didn't know if he was nervous or excited. He was both and neither, and the contradiction was tying him in knots.

With his eyes turned up to the ceiling, he didn't notice her until she tapped lightly on his office door. Sitting up with a start, a broad smile lit up his face. "Bones. Hey. I thought I was gonna pick you up on the way to the diner." He wasn't objecting to the change of plans. Every moment with her was the best moment of his life. But spontaneity really wasn't her thing, especially lately. With so much changing so fast, sticking to her schedule whenever possible gave her at least the illusion of control.

When her answering smile faded before it had really formed, he knew something was wrong. He was instantly up out of his chair and at her side. Drawing her out of the doorway, he closed the door to give them some privacy. He knew the entire bullpen would be surreptitiously watching through those damned floor to ceiling windows – really, whose brilliant design had that been? – but at least they couldn't listen too. "What is it?" he asked, leading her to the armchair in the corner. "Are you not feeling well? Is it the baby?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Booth. We're fine."

He breathed a sigh of relief and had to clench his hands to keep from reaching out to caress the barely discernible bump between her hips. He was getting really tired of all this secrecy. He would keep it up as long as she wanted, but he would be so glad when he could touch her and hold her without worrying about who was watching. "So what made you decide to leave work early?" he probed.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair. "I'm very apprehensive about this, Booth."

She didn't have to explain what 'this' was. He pulled over another chair for himself and rested a hand lightly on her arm just below the elbow. Outwardly it was a safe, neutral touch. No one but them could sense the power of it, the electric tingle that passed from his skin to hers. "Tell me what you're thinking," he said.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Then she spoke slowly, pulling the words up from her innermost being. "I don't want to drive a wedge between you. Now that I have a child of my own, even if it's still just a fetus… I'm finally beginning to understand how much he means to you. I don't want…" She trailed off, her hand falling automatically to her stomach and then jerking away as she remembered where they were. Instead her fingers drummed restlessly on her leg.

She never ceased to amaze him. With everything she had to worry about, that this was her deepest fear meant more to him than she would ever know. "I really wish we were somewhere more private right now," he said, "so I could show you how much I love you for that. Parker is going to be fine, Bones. He's always liked you, and he'll be thrilled to be a big brother."

"You don't know that for certain," she protested. "Sibling rivalry is an anthropological constant. It's a natural extension of the survival instinct. Children are completely dependent on their parents, and they feel threatened by anything that takes their parents' focus away from them. Parker has only recently adapted to sharing his mother with her new husband. Another big change in his parental relationship dynamic so soon, plus the competition of a sibling, may be more than he can cope with at his emotional maturity level."

"So we'll have to demonstrate that there's no competition. This baby isn't taking me away from him. I have more than enough love for both of them. We'll make sure he understands that. Okay?"

She wasn't totally convinced, but she nodded tentatively, willing to trust him.

He steered the conversation on to lighter topics as they waited for Rebecca and Parker to arrive. She was giving him an animated description of a Limbo case she was working on, (he wasn't really following, but he was enjoying her excitement), when there was another knock at his office door and Parker came barreling in.

"Hey, buddy!" Booth caught his son up in a bear hug. "How are ya?"

The ten year old immediately started in on a detailed account of his day. This summer Rebecca had enrolled him in a day camp for kids with an interest in science. They did lots of experiments, most of which involved blowing something up. It was the best summer of his life.

Deftly inserting "Wow!" and "Really?" in all the right places, Booth exchanged a speaking look with Rebecca over their child's head. Her eyes flickered from him to Temperance and back to him. Then she smiled and nodded. Of course she'd already assured him that she was happy for them when he called to explain the situation and plan the best way to tell Parker, but hearing her say it and seeing it in her face were very different. He returned the nod and mouthed, ' _Thank you._ '

When Parker finally paused for breath, his mother seized the opportunity to kiss him goodbye and remind him to behave.

"I'll have him home by bedtime," Booth assured her. "You and Thomas enjoy your evening alone."

"Oh, I'm sure we will," she said.

On the way to the car, Parker told Bones about a bird's nest he'd found the other day. "It had three eggs in it, and the mother bird didn't fly away when I climbed up. I touched her and everything. I was very careful not to scare her."

Bones explained to him that while a bird was hatching eggs, she never left the nest. Her mate would bring her everything she needed. Booth found himself wishing it was the same way for humans. It was a job and half making sure Bones didn't overdo it these days.

He hung back a little, enjoying the sight of his two favorite people in one place. Three favorite people counting their tiny secret. _We're going to be fine_ , he thought. _Better than fine. We're going to be a family_.

Once they were settled at their usual table at the diner, and Parker had been persuaded to eat his vegetables with the promise of ice cream for dessert, Booth touched Bones's hand and looked to her for permission to begin. She still looked nervous, but she nodded.

Just as Booth had predicted, after the initial shock, Parker was thrilled at the prospect of being a big brother. He immediately wanted to know if it was going to be a boy or a girl. They told him it had to get a bit bigger before they could tell.

They made sure he understood that this was being kept a secret for a little while. A family secret.

"Bones is family now?" he asked, looking pleased at the idea.

"Yes," Booth said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Bones is part of our family."

She ducked her head for a minute, and he suspected she was blinking away tears. Throwing caution to the wind for a moment, he leaned over and kissed her on the temple. He still remembered that awful day when her first tentative reunion with her father had ended in yet another abandonment, and the heart wrenching words she had said to him just a few feet from this very spot. _"Maybe I'm just one of those people who doesn't get a family."_ She hadn't sounded sad or angry, just quietly resigned. He had been angry though. He had been furious at everyone who'd ever dared to hurt her, to make her think she was unlovable. He'd wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and kiss away the pain, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. So he offered his friendship instead. _"There's more than one kind of family,"_ he told her, and he set the rest of his feelings aside for a day when she had healed enough to accept them. He'd waited years for that day, and he'd made mistakes along the way. He'd gotten impatient, scared her away, and then gave up too fast. But now he could finally give her the family she deserved. The real thing.

When dinner was over and the promised ice cream had been delivered and consumed to the last drop, Bones said she'd take a cab home while Booth took Parker back to Rebecca's. That way he could stay to tuck Parker in.

Parker got quiet as they drove. "You okay, bud?" Booth asked. "You're sure you're not upset about this baby?"

"No. I'm happy. Really," Parker insisted, but he continued to look pensively out the window at the darkening city. Finally, he said, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Bones and the new baby all gonna live together?"

"Yes," Booth said with a sinking feeling. He knew where this was going.

"Could I come live with you?"

Booth sighed. "No, Parker. I'm afraid you can't."

Parker's eyes, the part of his face that most clearly attested to Booth's role in his creation, welled with tears. He quickly turned his face away.

"I wish you could," Booth hastened to assure him. "I really do, Parker. I wish that more than anything. But your mom needs you. She loves you so much, Parker. I can't take you away from her like that. You'd miss her too. You know you would."

"Yeah," Parker conceded. "I know, but…but you'll be a family. You and Bones and the baby."

"And you. You're part of my family too, Parker. You always will be."

"But I won't get to live with you. How can I be part of your family if I only get to visit?"

Booth felt a lump rising in his own throat, but he swallowed it down. _Oh, God, help me find the words to explain this_ , he prayed. And God must have heard him because the words came. "Family isn't about living in the same house, Parker. Your Uncle Jarred and I haven't lived under the same roof in years. Decades even. Which is probably why we haven't killed each other yet."

That got a small smile out of Parker.

They were pulling up in front of Rebecca's house now. Booth put the car in park and turned to face his son. He reached out and smoothed his thumb gently over the boy's cheek, wiping away his tears, and wishing he could wipe away all the complications of his young life as easily. "One day, Parker," he said, "you'll head out in to the world on your own. You might end up anywhere. Australia, or Outer Mongolia, or anywhere. But even if we're on different planets, you and me, we'll still be family. Family is about loving each other no matter what, and helping each other, and always telling each other the truth. It doesn't matter where you live. We will always be family. Always. Do you understand?"

Parker nodded. Booth knew he didn't really understand completely, but he understood enough for now.

"You're gonna be the best big brother there ever was," he told him. "Wait and see."

Bones was already in bed when he got home. He undressed and slid in next to her. She immediately rolled in to his arms. He'd been surprised to discover what a snuggly sleeper she was. He loved it. By now he was pretty sure he'd never be able to sleep without her again. He hoped and prayed that he never had to test the theory.

"Is he really okay?" she asked, laying her head on his chest.

"Yeah," he said. "Everything's fine, just like I said it would be."

"I love you, Booth," she murmured, turning her head to press a kiss over his heart.

He smiled in the darkness. There was a time when he thought he'd never hear her say those words. "I love you too, Bones," he said. "You're going to be the best mother there ever was. Wait and see."


	6. The Slip in the Tongue

_A/N - This one isn't strictly speaking a B &B scene since Booth isn't actually in it, but I think you'll enjoy it anyway. It's set round about the middle of season one. A casual remark from Angela gets a surprising response from Brennan, and of course Angela wants all the details. Review if you like it. _

* * *

The Slip in the Tongue

By: Tamara A. Ryder

Angela stared at her friend in utter shock.

It was a Friday night, and for once she had managed to drag Bren away from work at a normal hour. They were at a bar, sharing a bottle of wine and dating stories. Angela had just finished praising her most recent fling's kissing abilities, (sadly, he had not been as skilled in other areas,) and she had said casually but suggestively, "I'll bet Booth is a good kisser."

It was meant as an opening for the next round of her ongoing game of _Get Booth and Bren into Bed_. She did not expect Bren to come back with a definitive, "Oh, he is."

When she could speak again, Angela squeaked, "You know this from personal experience?"

Bren blushed a little and looked away, but she couldn't take the words back now, so she said simply, "Yes."

"No," Angela said when nothing more was forthcoming. "You cannot drop a bombshell like that and not explain. It's cruel. Details, sweetie. I demand details. When? How? Did anything _else_ happen that you haven't told me about?"

Bren chose to answer the first (and least loaded) question first. "It was during the Gemma Arrington case, right after I punched Judge Hastey and Booth fired me."

Angela's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, God. Your hangover. You two got drunk."

" _Booth_ got _me_ drunk," Bren corrected. "Although he did get drunk himself in the process, and he apparently has a lower tolerance for alcohol than I do."

"And then he kissed you."

"Well, first I suggested that if we were no longer working together we could have sex."

"And he agreed?" Angela thought she might hyperventilate.

"Yes, he agreed quite readily. We went outside to catch a cab, and that was when he kissed me."

"Details," Angela prodded. "Was it soft? Hard? Tongue, no tongue? How long did it last?"

"It was soft. There was definite tongue contact. And it lasted about thirty to thirty five seconds."

Angela put a hand over her face and sighed, but not in rapture. "Sweetie, you have no poetry in your soul."

Bren frowned. "I don't know what that means."

"My point exactly. Okay, what happened next? Did you sleep together?"

"No."

"Why am I not surprised? I assume you came to your senses first, Miss Logic."

"Yes. As I said, I have a higher tolerance for alcohol than Booth does."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, alcohol tolerance had nothing to do with it, my friend. Even stone cold sober, he could not have resisted you if you were determined to get him into bed."

Bren smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."


End file.
